Today they hung. What an unfortunate term.

And when everything was broken; the crows’ nests fallen and willow bark peeling
And when everything was used up; the bottom of rusty soup cans and sides of cracked dice
And when everything was forgotten; the last seconds of a song and the last words of a preacher
And when everyone had got home; little sticky fingers and angry mothers’ words
And when everyone had left it behind; sunken cheeks of dry chuckles and washed up tears
“There’s nothing left for me here anymore” she says
”That depends what you are looking for” he answered
None of them spoke, and none of them breathed. Their mouths, dry; their lips, cracked.
For a minute, it seemed impossible. And then it was over. The sunrise was sunset and without them, the world went on; speeding tickets, ghosts under childrens’ beds, dogs eating homework, playlists made.
And when everything was dead; the flowers, the music, the laughter, the grandparents
And when everything slept; bears in winter and lonely autumn leaves, scrunched under paw prints and leopard prints
”We can’t go on like this, we don’t have anywhere left to go” she says
“None of do though” he answers

For once, because nothing made sense, it was okay. Words meant nothing but the tangent of thought they sprouted from. There is no love, only proofs of love. And when the evidence is gone, our fingerprints last of all, there is nothing left. And that’s okay- if we tell ourselves that, if we let it be.